Caught With His Pants Down
by Dixxy Mouri
Summary: Sanji gets picked up one night. The next morning he realizes things have taken a turn for the worse - the girl is a bounty hunter and although she's not very good, she's got him on a boat headed for Marines. Not really Sanji x OC. Review please!
1. Prologue

Caught With His Pants Down

By Dixxy Mouri

Prologue

_It should be noted that the man known as Black Leg Sanji (Bounty: 77 million alive, 53 million, 900 thousand dead) is a man of many passions. His primary passions are food and the enigmatic All Blue, but excluding those two his heart sings the loudest for the fairer sex: women. Tall women, short women, red heads, blondes, brunettes, leggy, busty, all sorts of women. He loved to flirt with them, to cook for them, to make them cry out in the intimate pleasures of the night . . . yes, Sanji loved women._

_But there was one particular woman that was different. She was sexy and charming like many of the other women whom Sanji had shared a bed with, but this one was unique. She may have been a bit more than he bargained for, and perhaps it was only fair that Sanji was a bit more than she bargained for in return. _

Thanks to a mishap involving Luffy and Usopp playing some stupid game in Sanji's kitchen, the major appliances were temporarily out of order and even though Franky was working as quickly as possible to fix the kitchen, it was going to be a couple of days before the room was usable again and about a week before the swelling on the captain and sniper's faces ceased.

So they'd gone to a local tavern for dinner after having cold cereal and fruit for breakfast and cold ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch. The food was good – but not as good as Sanji's – and shortly after dinner was served there was music and dancing, which. Nami saw it as an opportunity to pick the pockets of the unsuspecting dancers, while Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper decided to act like the morons they were as they danced off beat and attracted a few sour stares. Franky asked Robin to dance, blushing as the woman offered her hand.

Sanji found himself on the dance floor soon enough, looking for a lady to woo and dance with. For the most part the women already seemed to have dance partners already – their husbands or boyfriends, he guessed. Not a whole lot of single girls, aside from Nami-san, and she wasn't interested in dancing, though he had asked.

"Not tonight, Sanji-kun," she had politely declined.

The cook sighed in defeat, feeling like an idiot standing there alone on the dance floor. He was alone without a single girl in sight – as usual. He groaned in frustration as he moved through the dancers, envious of every man there. Half of them were probably going to get laid when they brought their girls home. Best he was going to get was some quality time with a bottle of lotion and a dirty magazine.

How long had it been since he'd gotten laid? Maybe . . . no, he was certain it was the night before he'd met Luffy. Sanji scoffed – that meant it really HAD been a long time. He could still remember the last girl. She'd been the last customer that night at the Baratie and while Patty was busy trying to get her to go (or order a dessert instead of just sitting there doing nothing ) she and Sanji had started to talk and the next thing he knew she was in his cabin, riding him like a horse. She'd stayed for breakfast, left, and then a canon ball crashed through the roof.

He might as well just go back to the table and sit with Zoro and Brook. Maybe Brook would let him tag along on a panty raid excursion (although as much as Sanji liked girls and everything to do with them, he wasn't as obsessed with panties as Brook was so the idea wasn't THAT exciting to him). He frowned. Tonight might not be that exciting after all.

Sanji slid his way through the dance floor, looking for someone to dance with. Taken, taken, taken, taken, ugly, taken, taken, lesbians, taken, taken, taken, might be a man, taken, taken, missing an arm, taken, taken, older than dirt, taken. He frowned, getting frustrated. Wasn't there anyone here he could dance with? The image of the lotion bottle loomed in his mind.

His eyes caught a glimpse of a woman in a corner with a glass of wine – alone. He turned to look at her. _Hmm . . . not bad,_ he thought to himself. She looked to be about a dress size 4 with a double or triple D chest size – maybe an F. She had a full head of deep red hair piled high into a pony tail – much darker than Nami-san's – and thick, pouty lips painted with shiny ruby gloss. She was wearing a short white tube dress with a thick blue belt around her waist and shiny blue chunky platform heels.

Most importantly, she was alone and didn't appear to have a glass eye.

Sanji waltzed over to her, making sure his tie was on straight. He briefly checked his hair in a decorative mirror hanging on the wall. He grabbed a carnation from a vase on a nearby, unoccupied table and made sure it was neat. She turned enough to see him approaching her, and he slid into the empty seat across from her, presenting the flower to her. "Excuse me, my princess, but I couldn't help but notice you were here alone. Would you like some company?"

The girl crossed her legs and propped her chin into the palm of her hand, eying him in curiosity. "Oh? And who would this company be with?" She appeared to be evaluating him as she looked him up and down – possibly picturing him naked. He knew that look. God knew he looked at Nami-san and Robin-chan that way every day (although since the stupid shipwright had started seeing his raven haired flower he'd had to cut back on eying her significantly – he wasn't one to hit on a taken woman).

It was nice to have the gesture reciprocated.

"Me, your knight in a designer suit," he said.

"Where's your shining armor?"

"In the shop."

The girl took the flower and smelled it. "Carnations? A little cheap."

"Ah, but this carnation is special," Sanji said, taking her heads.

"How so?"

"Because you're the one holding it."

The girl giggled. "Either I'm a little tipsy or you're charming."

"Hmm. Must be the alcohol," Sanji said with a smirk.

The woman sighed, picking up her wine glass and swirling it around absently. Yeah. She was definitely interested. She batted her eyelashes at him, tapping her pinky nail against the glass as she took a sip. "So, let me guess – are you trying to pick me up, sugar?"  
Sanji gripped his knees of his pants, hoping she didn't sense his defensive action. "Maybe," he said. "That depends – are you looking to be picked up, princess?" Inwardly he sighed – it was a long shot but it was worth a try – it had worked once before. But it had failed the other seventy-two times he'd tried it.

As it turned out, seventy-four was a lucky number for Sanji.

They'd talked for another half hour before the girl invited him back to her boat for "a drink", which, as Sanji knew from experience, meant "sexy exciting fun time". So they'd left the tavern and hurried to the dock, where they boarded her boat (a model designed to house roughly one to two full time passengers comfortably) and, as soon as they were in her cabin and the door was closed they'd started tearing at each other's clothing.

The girl backed Sanji towards her bed, kissing and gasping as she fumbled with the buttons of his jacket while he loosened his tie. His knees hit the bed and he was on his back, struggling out of his jacket as she pulled the tie up over his head, flicking his ears on the way up. "Slow down, princess, there's no rush! I'm all yours for the rest of the night!" Sanji said as she crawled on top of him and straddled his waist. He started to unbuckle her belt, eliciting a giggle and a finger running down his chest.

"I'm horny," she said, diving down to fumble with his shirt buttons. Sanji felt a "mellorine" escape from his lips as her tried to move his hands up her thighs and under her skirt. She sighed, biting on his lower lip. "It's been a while, baby. I've gone months without a decent tumble in the sheets. I'm an independent woman – I can't stand it!"

Sanji groaned as she undid his belt. "Same – too damn long." He grabbed her waist and gently flipped her over. She gasped, exaggerating her breathes so her chest heaved up and down under him. "Guess it's a good thing we found each other, huh?" She squealed with delight, fumbling with the top button of his pants. "Even better that I've found a gorgeous little vixen to keep me company."

"And I'm glad I found myself a young, limber stallion all to myself."

"Mellor-INE!"

Sometime later, the blond she'd picked up was sleeping soundly on her left, hugging one of her pillows and lying belly down on her sheets. His chest was slowly moving up and down as he breathed, the sheets just barely covering his naked ass. She grinned, walking her fingers up his spine. He shuddered in his sleep, mumbled something, and shifted his shoulders.

She didn't mind that he was going to spend the night. He'd mentioned he was a cook at some point so maybe she could get him to make her breakfast in the morning – see if he was as good in the kitchen as he was in bed.

After that, dear God she hoped so!

Most of the men she brought home (or who brought her home) would pass out after about five minutes of boring sex that resulted in her frustrated and them drooling on her good pillowcases. Once in a while they would buy her breakfast (especially if they were a little on the small side), oblivious at just how awful they had performed the night before, and she would give them a line about giving then a call if they had a Den Den Mushi or something else that really meant "you sucked leave me alone." Sure once in a while she found one who was a decent roll in the hay but they were few and far between. She made breakfast for those few souls.

However, this guy was different. He was more than just a "decent roll in the hay". He was fantastic with his hands – and his tongue – and didn't pass out until after three rounds with a cigarette break in between two and three. He was gentle but firm. Where the hell he got his stamina from she would never know but if he hadn't offered to make breakfast he would have gotten a stack of pancakes the size of his head.

Deciding she wasn't sleepy just yet and realizing she was behind on work, she slipped out of bed and grabbed the nearest article of clothing she could find – it just so happened to be her fling's silky lavender shirt. She slipped it on and smelled it – it smelled like cigarettes and seafood. She closed her eyes. There was a slight tinge of cologne as well – she dated a guy who wore that brand once.

She put his hands on her hips once she had the darn thing buttoned up and strutted to her desk, stepping over their shoes and a pile of laundry he had thankfully not noticed (although he seemed hormonal enough that she wasn't sure he'd really care by the time they got to her bedroom). She yawned – she was so behind!

Being a bounty hunter was hard work – it wasn't like criminals just fell into her lap!

She started to hum to herself as she began to flip through the stack of wanted posters on her desk. She'd been so busy chasing that last one (only to have two idiots from East Blue catch him before her – bastards had linked arms and started yelling "Hurray hurray!" before started to dance in circles) that she hadn't bothered to look at some of the new posters that came in during the recent weeks.

There were some Emperors and their crewmates on the top of the stack – way out of her league, into the garbage they went. She wasn't that good yet – no way. Still, it was awfully fun to dream about bringing down Red Haired Shanks or Whitebeard and cashing in that paycheck. She moaned at the thought – that would set her for life! Mostly she was satisfied with bounties around 15 million or less – someone like Shanks or Whitebeard would be worth far more than that but, well, leave it to the more experienced ones.

The man in her bed chuckled about something in his sleep. She turned back and smiled.

The next few entries were current crews of interest. Trafalger Law and his crew of current interest in the area, but way out of her league – as was Scratchman Apoo and his men. She grunted in frustration. Everything was over her head! She couldn't go after any of the big bounties unless she had more experience! It was a horrible cycle!

Biting her bottom lip, she looked at the next stack – the Straw Hat Pirates. She whimpered – the captain was worth 300 million alone. Into the garbage it went. Roronoa Zoro? Bah. 120 million. Not much better. She crumpled it up – his poster could join his captain's poster. She fumed when she saw the Demon Child, Nico Robin, had been raised to 80 million. And into the garbage that one went. Next was Black Leg Sanji, 77 million. And into the –

_Wait, what?_

She did a double take. She raised an eyebrow and scratched her head, crossing her legs. Blond hair . . . just like the guy in her bed, and styled the same way, too. Cigarette . . . he had smoked a couple in-between the sex, and his shirt did smell like cigarettes. Chin stubble . . . it had tickled her when he'd kissed her and done . . . other things. And the eyebrow . . .

She almost fell out of her chair as she stared at the poster in terror.

_No way!_

She turned her head to the man in her bed. She'd never gotten his name, and she hadn't given her his. She swallowed, got up, and tip-toed over to the sleeping body. He was still asleep, breathing softly and deeply. He was smiling in his sleep, stilling hugging her pillow. She bent down to look at him. It certainly looked like this man might be Black Leg Sanji . . .

Well . . .

"Sanji?" she asked softly.

The man shifted a little, barely opening his eyes. "Yeah? You need something, sugar lips?"

Her heart froze. _So it is him._ She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Black Leg Sanji closed his eyes and sighed, turning over and seemingly going back to sleep right away. She slid to the floor, relieved. If he'd stayed awake too long he might have noticed she'd called him by his name when he'd not once offered it to her before. What did she do next? She wouldn't get another opportunity like this! 77 million berries lying helpless in her bed . . .

She had to work quickly!

Author's Notes

I 100% promise this fic will NOT contain Sanji and the bounty hunter in a romantic relationship. This is not going to be the bounty hunter decides she's suddenly madly in love with Sanji and decides to release him as a token of her affection or something like that.

I have other plans in mind.

Basically, I'm sure you've all seen something along the lines of Sanji getting kidnapped where he is promptly manhandled, raped, molested, ect. This is not one of those stories. So, I hope you enjoy this little experiment in fanfiction!

Dixxy


	2. Chapter One

Caught With His Pants Down

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter One

Sanji felt consciousness slowly creeping up on him and he whined in complaint. He still wanted to sleep. The bed he was in was WAY too comfortable – satin sheets, soft mattress, much better than the crappy linen and lumpy mattresses Franky had provided the crew with when he'd built the Sunny. But he'd gotten to spend his night elsewhere, and with a beautiful, naked woman cuddled up next to him. He grinned.

The drought was over.

Oh, and what an end to the drought it had been! He didn't know her name (that happened sometimes) but she had been pretty interesting. She moved around a lot (instead of simply lying there like a dead fish – Sanji didn't mind doing all the work but he never turned down help, either) and was pretty good at figuring out what he liked. Her lips tasted like sugar, even after a smoke – they'd shared a cigarette at one point before one final bungle in the jungle. Then they'd cuddled and he fell asleep, tired from a long day and a fun, but exhausting evening.

Still, try as he might, something was wrong. He couldn't go back to sleep and something felt a little off. Sanji stretched his arms over his head and spread his elbows, surprised to learn that his arms didn't extend as far as they should have and his hands wouldn't separate. He groaned. _What the hell?_ He blinked his eyes open, struggling into a sitting position (well, kind of a sitting position – he was sort of on his side) to see his hands were bound tight with powder blue nylon curtain rope attached to the metal headboard of the bed frame. Similarly, he noted his ankles were tied in a similar fashion to the footboard.

"What the fuck?" he mouthed. He struggled against the ropes. Nope, too tight. He examined the knot – it was a pretty secure sailor's knot, one he'd had to learn pretty quickly after joining Luffy's crew. And the nylon was pretty sturdy – he wasn't going anywhere for a while, not until someone untied him. He supposed he could try undoing the knot with his teeth but the position was a bit awkward, even for someone with his flexibility.

Sanji heard humming and saw a brief glimpse of his one night stand from the previous night walk past the slightly open bedroom door. Had she done this? He struggled to turn around, shifting the bed a little with his movements. He heard foot patters stop, then start again, getting louder and closer as he listened.

His partner from last night cautiously walked into the room, eyeing him up and down. She was holding something in one hand (but the view of whatever it was had been obstructed by the footboard). She was wearing a pair of short denim shorts (they made her thighs look fantastic) and a tight forest green t-shirt (that made her chest look even better)."Still tied up?" she asked dumbly.

Sanji laughed nervously. "You know, if you wanted to do the bondage thing I would have appreciated you asking first, sugar lips," he said. Maybe this was her way of initiating something a little kinky? "Really, I don't mind it like that. I just like it when I'm told about it first. Part of the fun is watching the other person tie you up."

The woman laughed, sitting on the desk to the side of the bed – now Sanji saw the shiny metal gun she'd been holding, which she casually pointed at him. Startled, Sanji sat up as best he could, looking to her for an answer. Gun plus bondage without consent didn't sound like it would end very well. "What the hell are you going to use THAT for?!" Sanji asked.

"I'm afraid this isn't about sex anymore, Black Leg Sanji."

"What the – wait, when did I tell you my name?" Sanji asked.

The woman shook her head and held up his bounty poster. "This told me."

Sanji sighed. "Hey, look, I know that you're probably nervous about me being a pirate and all but relax – I don't hurt women. I was brought up better than that."

"I'm a bounty hunter."

"Oh, well, in that – YOU'RE A WHAT!?"

"Bounty hunter," she said. "I hunt wanted men and women for a living."

Sanji wasn't sure how to process this revelation. "Uh . . . seriously?"

"Hey, it didn't start out this way – well, last night didn't, at least; it's not how I usually hunt. I honestly had no idea who you were when I brought you back here. I figured it out when I was going through my wanted posters last night while you were asleep, so don't feel like I tried to trick you or something. I just got lucky," she said. She laughed. "I made a pun! I'm hilarious!"

Sanji wasn't sure if he should laugh or start crying. If it had been a male bounty hunter he would have started swearing, kicking, biting, and screaming but this was a beautiful woman – how the hell was he supposed to get out of this? Aside from praying that Luffy and the others inexplicably knew where he was and came to the rescue.

No, then the stupid swordsman would never let him live it down.

_Well, Sanji, let's look at it this way. You can either sit back while she drags you to some Marine Base so they can throw you into Impel Down and/or hang you. Or, you can also try to escape, even if it would interfere with this lovely lady's next payday. I mean seriously, when is she going to find another catch like you, huh?_

Sanji frowned. He had some thinking to do. That, and a request.

"Hey, can I ask you a question, sugar lips?"

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

"Well, what do you want me to call you?"

"I don't need to tell you my name."

"Then I'm calling you Sugarlips. Can you untie me?"

"Why would I want to do that? And don't call me Sugarlips."

"But Sugarlips-chan, I need to use the bathroom."

* * *

The bathroom wasn't too far from her bedroom and Sugarlips had told him to take a shower while he was in there, though she kept his hands tied in front. "You smell. Just remember I'm on the other side of this door with a double barrel matchlock and if you don't come out with your hands behind your head I will blow your junk off."

"Didn't you do that to me last night?"

"Shut up."

He was tempted to try and knock down a wall to make his escape (which meant the really hard part would be explaining to the others why he was returning so late sans clothing), but after spending most of his years on the sea he could tell the boat was moving – they probably weren't within eyesight of the island anymore and how would he know what direction to swim in anyways? Besides, with his hands tied swimming would be next to impossible – he might as well eat a Devil Fruit and jump in a lake.

So instead he followed her orders and took a shower. She had a nice one, too. The water felt good, nice and hot, and it did feel nice getting to wash up (although getting his back was a pain – it required some ingenuity with the shower knobs and resulted in a very mangled bar of soap). While at sea he wasn't able to wash all that often – maybe a shower every two days – because things like shampoo and soap didn't exactly grow on Nami's tangerine trees.

"Nami-san," he said softly, frowning. He slapped his forehead, letting his hand cover his face. How in the world was he going to explain this to Nami? It's not like they were dating or anything – they certainly weren't – but he was afraid of what she'd think of him when he tried to explain what had happened.

She'd probably see him the way she saw him now anyways. A dick-driven man whore.

Marimo head would probably laugh at his predicament. Hell, most of the guys would. Usopp would probably make some kind of outrageous claim about how he would have been such a good lover that Sugarlips wouldn't have even CONSIDERED turning him in (even though Sanji was 99% sure that Usopp was a virgin) and he expected some kind of loud, crying pity from Franky. Brook might make a stupid remark about what color panties she'd been wearing (something Sanji hadn't noted – he had been too busy trying to get them off when the time came to see them). And Chopper might start checking him for diseases (which Sanji didn't think would be a problem – he'd worn a condom the whole time). Robin would politely welcome him back and turn back to her book or something.

And Luffy . . .

Sanji smiled at the thought of his captain. Luffy had known that he'd be the Straw Hats' cook from almost first glance. And Luffy had insisted Sanji was already in the crew even after he loudly insisted he wasn't in it – every single time. Maybe Luffy somehow knew him better than he knew himself, even after only knowing him for a few short moments. He was a good captain – he didn't look like it but he was great at reading people and that was probably what helped him choose his crew so carefully.

Luffy loved everyone in the crew. It was why he'd tried so hard to rescue Nami and Robin from their respective demons, why he'd dragged himself, Chopper, and Franky kicking and screaming into the crew, why he took Usopp back with open arms and tears after the sniper left, why he knew he wanted Brook with them before he even knew the skeleton was a musician, the one role he'd so desperately wanted to fill for so long.

Luffy would . . .

Sanji didn't want to think about what Luffy would do if something really bad happened to one of them. Sure there would probably be a lot of yelling and screaming at first – he'd probably try to kill Sugarlips with his bare hands – but then, then he might just . . . break. Luffy was attached to all of them and wouldn't have any other swordsman or navigator or sharpshooter or doctor or archaeologist or shipwright or musician on his crew. He wouldn't have another cook on his crew, either.

And then there was All Blue.

Sanji slid to the bottom of the shower stall. His heart still soared at the idea of the ocean. All those fish, all the meals he could make fresh from the ocean . . . And if something happened to him, no one would be able to tell that shitty old man the sea existed. He rested his chin on his knees and stared ahead as the water continued to beat down on him.

Black Leg Sanji was going to get out of this mess alive, rejoin his crewmates, and find All Blue.

All he had to do was escape from Sugarlips.


	3. Chapter Two

Caught With His Pants Down

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Two

"Put your pants back on."

Sanji frowned. "But you worked so hard to get me out of them last night."

Sugarlips glared at him, shoving the gun forward. "Pants."

"Yes, Sugarlips-chan."

"Put the damn pants on, pirate."

Sugarlips tossed him his pants, which Sanji struggled to get into with his hands still bound – he was going to have to solve that problem quickly if he wanted off her boat. _Well, they're rope – I can't break them but maybe I can find something to cut through them?_ He finally managed to pull the zipper up and button the fly closed.

Sugarlips placed the gun at the base of his neck. "Move."

"Where?"

"Bedroom."

"You're insatiable."

The bounty hunter was starting to lose her patience. "I'm tying you to the bar in my closet – I'll give you food three times a day and one cigarette between meals – I'm not dealing with withdrawal – and let you out for regular bathroom breaks because if you do . . . that . . . in my closet I will be collecting 53, 900,000 berries instead of the 77 million."

"Huh?" asked Sanji.

"I did the math. That's seventy percent of your bounty. It's what they pay for dead pirates."

Sanji swallowed. "All right, when nature calls you'll get a call, too."

Sugarlips had Sanji open the closet door and shove aside several items of clothing. _Nami would kill for half of these shirts, _Sanji noted to himself. She then produced a pair of handcuffs from her dresser drawer. The cook snickered. "Didn't we go through that game this morning?"

"Stuff it." Keeping the gun on him, Sugarlips slipped one cuff through the nylon surrounding Sanji's wrists and attached the other to the closet bar. "There. That should keep you for the next five days."

Sanji raised an eyebrow. "Five days?"

"That's how far we are from the nearest Marine Base," she said, reaching into the pocket of her shorts for a pack of cigarettes – Sanji looked at them longingly, suddenly craving one. "If we had a bigger boat we could get there in a day or two but this one isn't terribly fast, I'm sorry to say. So I'm stuck with you for that long."

_Okay, five days. The Thousand Sunny is pretty fast so if the others did figure out what happened they might be able to catch up to her. Nami-san is smart enough to realize she'd head to the nearest Marine Base and she could get the others there easy. But I can't rely on that – especially if that means the muscle head sees me like this._

_Actually . . ._ Sanji wondered as Sugarlips left to get breakfast, _what is everyone else doing now?

* * *

_

As the sun rose over the horizon line, there was still no sign of the Straw Hat's chef returning.

Nami blinked sleepily and worriedly at the boarding plank of the Sunny. She'd had watch duty that night and, unlike a normal shift, everyone had agreed that Sanji was probably the most important thing to keep an eye out for when they realized it was after midnight and he still hadn't shown up.

He was in fact the only thing to look for – the island was very small, quaint, and quiet and was lacking in the usual oppressive rulers, Marine Base (the nearest one was, at the Sunny's fastest speed, a day's sail away), and other pirates. When the Straw Hats made no trouble, the islanders seemed to think leaving them alone was the best thing to do. With really no fear of being attacked by, well, anything, Nami was basically just waiting up for Sanji.

And he still hadn't come back.

Nami swallowed. Something was wrong. They'd lost track of him at the tavern the night before – no one in the crew had seen him leave but when it was time to go he wasn't there. The Straw Hats had search the tavern for a good ten minutes (which, considering there were eight of them searching, was actually pretty thorough) and then checked the streets around the tavern. No sign of Sanji. Thinking he might have returned to the ship early the crew tried there, only to find the ship cook-less.

"Sanji's pretty strong – he'll probably be okay for one night," Luffy had concluded. And the rest of the crew – even Zoro – had to agree. Sanji wasn't entirely stupid and he was one of their stronger members. He'd be fine, they were sure of it. But just in case, Chopper left a first aid kit with Nami before he went to bed and Usopp offered to be a second pair of eyes.

Nami sighed as she realized the others were starting to wake up. Something was definitely wrong.

* * *

Sanji stared at the handcuffs Sugarlips had chained him to the closet rack with. She'd closed the door on him so it was hard to see, but he was pretty sure he knew the brand. They weren't good handcuffs – they didn't look like they were made of a particularly strong metal – he might be able to get out of them, even without the key.

After all, Sanji was very good with his hands.

Sanji reached up to the cuff attached to the closet rack – that was the biggest problem at the moment. The knot was in a just awkward enough place that he couldn't get to it with his teeth, otherwise he would have been untied already. He was going to either need to move the knot with something or cut the rope with something. If Sugarlips was indeed a bounty hunter, she might have some kind of sharp weapon lying around, or even just a regular razorblade.

He startling jiggling the cuff. It made a satisfying "click" and fell from the bar, open.

_Well, that was way too easy,_ Sanji thought, letting himself quietly out of the closet. Sugarlips wasn't in her bedroom, so he was free to look for something sharp. The door was closed, so that might muffle any sounds he made – hopefully she assumed he was standing there like an idiot in the closet, waiting for breakfast or something.

Sanji started opening drawers, trying to find something useful. Mostly he was finding clothing, including a drawer full of panties Brook would have died – again – to riffle through. He bit his lip in frustration. Didn't she have a sewing drawer or something? Nami had a small sewing kit in her room and he had definitely seen scissors in there.

Finally, Sanji found the sewing kit he was looking for just in time to hear the click of Sugarlips' matchlock. He stood up straight, turned, and smiled nervously at his captor, who had a very not amused look on her face and a plate of pancakes in the hand not holding a handgun. "Hi, Sugarlips-chan," he said, trying to pretend he hadn't just escaped from her closet and was now rifling through her things.

"How the hell did you get out?"

"The handcuffs got loose," he said.

She put the pancakes down on the dresser and stepped forward, placing the barrel of the gun on his chest. "Oh really? How did they get loose?"

Sanji saw no reason not to be honest with her. They both knew what had happened – lying would make her angry. "I jiggled the cuff and it came undone."

Sugarlips glared. "Go sit down at the desk – I brought you breakfast."

Sanji raised an eyebrow as he looked at the pancakes. It was a pretty tall stack. "Why so much?" he asked. "I thought I was your prisoner." Sugarlips started to herd him to the desk, bringing the plate of pancakes (already drowning in syrup with a fork stabbed in the top) with her. Sanji pulled out the chair with his foot and sat down, letting her put the food in front of him. The cook looked up at her questioningly. "It's not poisoned, is it?"

Sugarlips rolled her eyes. "No, it's not. I'll take the lower prize if I have to, but I would prefer to keep you alive and get the whole pot," she said. She leaned against the wall, still pointing the gun at him. "And as for the food, consider it a bit of a thank you gift."

"What are you thanking me for?" Sanji asked, suddenly confused.

"For last night," she said. "You might be a scummy pirate but you were FANTASTIC in the sack."

Sanji couldn't help but beam at her. "You thought I was fantastic!?"

"You were there – I don't start crying out like that unless I'm enjoying myself."

If he wasn't tied up with a gun pointed at his head, Sanji would have started dancing around the room. Instead he just grinned and clumsily started to cut into the stack of pancakes – his stomach was growling at him, and even if it was from someone who was, indirectly, trying to kill him, he didn't want to starve himself during this ordeal.

He took a bite and closed his eyes, chewing the food carefully and analyzing the taste. "Scratch," he said. "Definitely not boxed – you used real flour for this – maybe cake flour, since they're thick but it works. Little bit of vanilla and cinnamon for extra flavor, but not so much it overpowers it. The syrup's the good stuff, too." Sanji turned to Sugarlips, grinning. "They're really good. Mind if I have the recipe?"

"What would you use it for?"

"Making pancakes, what else?"

"What the hell kind of prison cell do you think you're going to?"

Sanji frowned, looking at the pancakes sadly. _Right._

"I am flattered, though – it's not every day my cooking gets complimented by a cook. Even if it is just a pirate ship's cook. How the hell did someone so low on the roster get such a high bounty anyways?" she asked, lighting a cigarette.

Sanji furrowed his eyebrows. "Cooks are very important on a ship – you should know that if you live on a boat," he said. He took another bite of the pancakes, chewed, and swallowed. "If you don't get all the proper nutrition your body needs, you die – even the best doctor in the world can't help you if he doesn't have the right things to feed you. My job is to make sure my crewmates don't drink themselves to death or stuff themselves silly with bacon. Our doctor's good but I'm the first line of defense against illness."

Sugarlips grinned, patting him on the head. "Of course you are."

"I mean it, Sugarlips-chan. Just try going a month without any fruits or vegetables and see how you look and feel after that," Sanji said. "Your body can't live like that. You'd end up dead or very, very sick and you're much too pretty to end up dead this young – how old are you?"

"None of your business."

"Thirty-six it is!"

"I'm twenty-two you jackass!"

Sanji grinned while Sugarlips fumed. "I'm nineteen. You've laid yourself a younger man."

"I'm not old!"

"Older than me. But we younger men like them older sometimes – experience, you know."

"Are you calling me a slut?"

"No, but which one of us brought home a criminal?"

"Which one of us went home with a bounty hunter?"

"Touché."

They sat in silence while Sanji ate. Sugarlips wasn't a bad cook – they weren't the best pancakes he'd ever had (the best pancakes he'd ever had were made by a girl he'd dated about a year ago until he found her in bed with, of all men, her COUSIN) but he still wanted to experiment with the recipe. They might be nice with some of Nami-san's tangerines.

The plate was soon finished. "Stay put," she ordered. She kept the gun on him as she backed towards her bed, reaching underneath with one hand as she kept her eyes glued on Sanji. She pulled out a small trunk and kicked the lid up, pulling out several more yards of the blue rope his hands were tied with. "I was hoping to keep my desk open for use – well, the chair at least – but since you came out of the closet this will have to do."

Sanji made a face. "I'm not gay."

"Shut the fuck up."

* * *


End file.
